


Who's the fairest of them all?

by rivers_bend



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Music RPF, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy gets an ~interesting present from a fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's the fairest of them all?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know any of the people whose personas are mentioned here and neither believe nor mean to imply this ever happened.

Tommy didn't turn up for lunch, and didn't answer Adam's text, and didn't pick up his phone when Adam called. Since Tommy was pretty much surgically attached to his phone, Adam was concerned. Monte hadn't heard from him, Sasha just shrugged, and Terrance said, "He's ignoring my tweets," so Adam figured he'd better go find him.

When he knocked on Tommy's door there was a sound that Adam took to mean _come in_ , so he fished the spare key he'd gotten from Lane out of his pocket. Tommy was sitting on the bed staring with a sort of horrified fascination at an ornate gold frame, about the size of a Rolling Stone magazine.

"What's this?" Adam asked.

Tommy jumped like he hadn't noticed Adam coming in, and slammed the frame face-down on the bed, palm splayed on the back like he thought Adam was going to snatch it away. Not that Adam wasn't tempted. He wondered if it was maybe another picture of the two of them kissing; fans liked to send them to Tommy. Adam had to admit he liked how much Tommy seemed to like to get them.

"Tommy?" Adam pressed when Tommy just sat there giving him a helpless look.

"It was all wrapped up like a present," Tommy said. "But I don't-- Why would--" pushing it away, Tommy shuffled a few feet up the bed. Adam took that as an invitation to look.

When he picked it up it was a mirror, but before he could open his mouth to ask why a mirror had Tommy so freaked out, his image rippled and shifted, and became a silent movie of him fucking a woman he'd never seen before. "What the fuck?" he said and before the words were even out, the image changed again, and he was wearing his final costume from the show, fingering two girls at once while they made out with each other, and then he was doing a guy up against a wall, and he'd never seen any of these people before in his life so where the hell were the movies _coming from_?

"What are they doing to me now?" Tommy asked from his little huddle up by the pillows.

"To you?" Now Adam was fucking a woman he thought he might have seen in the front row a few times, and his dick was the size of his fucking leg, which, just, NO.

"All those people, women, guys, grabbing me and kissing me and even--" Tommy trailed off again.

Adam looked at the ~mirror again and yep, still him, this time wearing ten tons of makeup and kissing--was that _Brad_?--while someone took a million pictures. He sat down next to Tommy and put an arm around him, holding the frame so he could see if he wanted, but it wasn't shoved in his face. "I can't see you in here," he said softly.

Tommy leaned in, half Tommy-cuddle, half getting a better angle, and for a second it was just their reflection, puzzled faces looking up at them, then the ripple Adam had seen before. And _whoa_ threesomes and foursomes and moresomes, Adam and Tommy doing totally physically implausible things while strangers watched, or filmed, or photographed them, snatches of Fever kisses and them up on stage that crazy night in Providence, doing things Adam remembered and things he's pretty sure would get them arrested if he'd actually dared go there.

"Oh!" Tommy said, blushing hot and trying to pull away, but Adam held him, putting the mirror down instead.

"How long were you looking at that before I came in?" he asked.

Tommy clung to him, face buried in Adam's chest, arms tight around his ribs. "Was here when we checked in," he mumbled.

Which was almost four hours ago. Fuck. No wonder he was totally freaked.

In his magical way, where it seemed like he wasn't moving at all, Tommy wriggled and shifted and got them lying down on the bed so he was all curled around Adam's side, snug in Adam's arms, their legs all tangled up together. Adam had never been able to figure out how he did that. And seriously. Straight boys were _not_ meant to be so cuddly.

"At first it was just, like, fans?" Tommy said once they were settled to his satisfaction. "But then--" his voice got smaller. "But then I was like, naked? And sitting on Immerman's lap, and like, he was fucking me, and all kissing me and, like, he's my _friend_ , and it was _not just tacos_."

There had been a night earlier on in the tour and Dave had been very drunk, and Adam hadn't been much more sober, and they'd ended up in a corner together after Monte wandered off and Tommy went to talk to Sutan, and watching Tommy across the room, Dave had said, "He's so small, and like, perfect, and you could just hold him on your lap and fuck him and he'd be all--" and then he'd turned bright red and downed the rest of his beer in one swallow. "Forget I said that," he begged. Adam just wished that he could.

"So..." Adam ventured. "What do you think it is?"

"A torture device." Tommy sounded certain.

"But what is it showing us? The things aren't real, obviously." He hoped none of it was real. If Immerman had fucked Tommy when Adam hadn't-- Well. It was none of Adam's business, really, but he wasn't going to be happy.

"I thought at first it was like someone's fantasies, but I'm pretty sure no one is fantasizing about me fucking Immerman."

Adam had to tilt Tommy's face up and look at him. He didn't seem to be kidding. "You have _met_ the fangirls, right?" he asked. He figured keeping Dave's secret was the better part of valor.

"They're all too busy imagining you fucking me."

"I'm pretty sure they imagine _everyone_ fucking you." In great, graphic detail. Who wouldn't? Though that made Adam plenty busy imagining fucking Tommy himself. He checked to make sure the mirror was face down, in case it could pick up on people's thoughts.

"Maybe it picks up people's thoughts?" Tommy said.

"You can't read minds, can you?" Adam tried really hard to think about what he'd had for lunch instead of Tommy all soft and pliant under him.

Tommy snorted and shuddered. "I'd have to kill myself if I could read minds. Or get a lobotomy or something."

Adam had always thought it would be pretty cool to be able to read people's thoughts. But maybe not. That mirror _was_ pretty disconcerting.

"So why'd you keep looking at that thing?"

"I couldn't look away. I don't know. It was so--"

"Car crash mirror?"

"Yeah."

They lay there for a while, thinking their own thoughts, or so Adam trusted. Tommy thinking Adam's thoughts would be seriously awkward.

Adam was almost dozing, soothed by his fingers trailing through Tommy's hair and by Tommy's fingers rubbing his belly, when Tommy said, as close to cheeky as Tommy, who tended more to subtle, ever got, "So do you really think about doing that with me, or was it just the mirror talking?"


End file.
